The Reichenbach Return
by cajungirlkye
Summary: Set 6 months after "The Reichenbach Fall", so spoilers for such. Also some mention of "A Study in Pink" and "The Blind Banker". My version of John & Sherlock's reunion. R&R are welcome! *NOT Brit-picked, so any Americanisms are my own* Was originally rated K , but due to mentions of past drug use will be rated T. Johnlock angst and eventual fluff. Lots of FINALLY spoken feelings!
1. Chapter 1 - Going through the Motions

**A/N: The muse in my head kept kicking me until I got this story out. This IS a multi-chapter WIP. (I write during downtime during the week and I will edit & post the next ****chapter sometime between Friday-Sunday each week, so it might take a couple of weeks to be complete, depending on how long my muse decides to let the story go on.) **

**Anyway, as the summary says, this is my angsty little version of John & Sherlock's reunion following "The Reichenbach Fall". I was listening to "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls as inspiration for this chapter. (Find the song on YouTube and give it a listen while reading!) This was originally rated K+ for mild British swearing, but because I'm paranoid, will be rated T for Chapters 2 on because of mentions of drug use and ****and eventual Johnlock lurve**. ;) Please R&R! I love to hear that people appreciate Sherlock & the brillant actors, writers, etc on the series as much as I do.

**This version of Sherlock & all characters therein belong to the BBC. I'm just borrowing them because I need my Sherlock fix, darn it, and I can't wait until at least January!**

Ch. 1

John Watson awoke with a start. _Another nightmare_, he thought. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get the image of Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective and his best friend, lying dead on the pavement after jumping from the rooftop of St. Bart's Hospital. John never understood why Sherlock took his own life. Moriarty was dead, and Sherlock never seemed to care what people thought about him nor if he offended people with his deductions. John always thought Sherlock was rather amazing, and didn't believe for a second when Sherlock told John that he had researched the good doctor before their meeting. John almost did – Sherlock was quite the actor when he wanted to extract information from people – except for one detail. _Harry_. Sherlock had incorrectly deduced that Harry was John's brother. Sherlock's ego wouldn't have allowed him to deduce incorrectly on purpose, especially if he had been trying to impress John.

He got out of bed and went down the stairs into the kitchen. It had been a month since he had returned to 221B Baker Street, and six months since Sherlock's death. John chose not to think of Sherlock's death as a suicide, even though that was the official CoD. It still shocked John how bare the flat looked with Sherlock's belongings and scientific equipment not littering the entire flat. Mrs. Hudson had boxed up everything that was Sherlock's and put it away in storage, with the exception of the items in Sherlock's bedroom. John had insisted that Sherlock's room remained untouched. "He wouldn't like it," he had insisted. Mrs. Hudson looked at John sadly and finally agreed, silently hoping that one day John would finally let go.

John went through the motions of his day, sifting through paperwork at the clinic, typing up case notes, filing patient files. He had misdiagnosed one or two patients (okay, four) upon returning to the clinic after Sherlock's death, so Sarah had banished him to the filing room. _To keep you busy,_ she had said, but John took it more as _so you don't bloody well kill someone_. On his good days, he preferred the quiet of the filing room; that way people wouldn't keep asking him if he was ok. On his bad days, he was left alone with his thoughts and often broke down.

His shift came and went and John, as per usual when he was having a bad day, found himself heading toward the cemetery where Sherlock was buried. He found that 'talking' to Sherlock was soothing; he figured that it was the only way he could get his feelings out without resorting to alcohol or violence. John never was much of a drinker, especially after he saw what alcohol did to Harry. As for violence, he wanted to punch Mycroft in the face every time he saw him going about his business like his only sibling had never died. John had been steadily ignoring Mycroft's texts, phone calls, and emails, and had even slammed the door in the government official's face the one time he actually visited the flat. Of course everyone was worried about John, but he wasn't going to cause harm to himself. His therapist tried to prescribe him anti-depressants, but John had previously been on them upon returning home from Afghanistan and didn't like the artificially happy state they put him in. Still, everyone kept an eye out. Mrs. Hudson, despite being 'not his housekeeper', found an excuse to clean whenever he was home alone, and when she was out of town, Lestrade often invited himself over to watch the football games, and Mycroft kept tabs in his own special way, by bugging the flat and watching John through the traffic cams. The cemetery was the only place John felt truly peaceful, felt like that was the only place he could be alone with Sherlock.

He sat down on the grave in front of Sherlock's grave and sat quietly for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts. Then he started filling Sherlock in on what had been going on since his last visit. "Harry's stopped drinking again. I think she's trying to be strong for me, rather than the other way around. Molly's got herself a new boyfriend, nice bloke. She seems happy and he doesn't seem psychotic. Lestrade wishes you were around to help with this latest case. You'd find this one at LEAST an eight." He choked up. "I miss you so much, Sherlock. I never would have thought that I could miss another person so much, especially one as annoying as you." He gave a wry chuckle then sighed. "I wish I could tell you how I truly felt about you, how much you really meant to me." He sniffled and stood up, placing his hand on Sherlock's headstone.

"You can."

John whirled around. His eyes widened, then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Reichenbach Return

**A/N: Thanks SO much to all who reviewed and followed/favorited my story! You all rock!**

******Each chapter has it's own "theme" song, which means I had that particular song on repeat while writing the corresponding chapter. **Musical inspiration for this chapter is "Holding On and Letting Go" by Ross Copperman. YouTube it and give it a listen while reading! 

**Unfortunately, our favorite consulting detective and 'his doctor' (I still LOVE that line!) don't belong to me. I'm just borrowing them from the BBC, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Martin Freeman while I whittle away the time from now until the Season 3 premiere.**

**As promised, here is Chapter 2!**

Chapter 2

When John came to, he was lying on the sofa at the flat. Someone had covered him with the hideously orange shock blanket and was holding a cold compress to his forehead. John groaned. "Mrs. Hudson, I just had the strangest..." He opened his eyes then trailed off. He was staring into a pair of familiar blue-green eyes. "...Dream," he finished. He sat up quickly. Kneeling on the floor in front of him was the man he had just spent the last six months thinking was dead. "Sherlock," he breathed.

"Hullo, John," Sherlock said calmly.

John sputtered, "but you're...you... you're dead." His voice broke. "I watched you fall off a rooftop."

"Well," Sherlock said reasonably, "as you clearly can see, I'm here, alive and quite well. Amazing, the power of perception… The experiments I could do…"

John was flooded with emotion, the strongest at the moment causing him to rear back and sock the world's only consulting detective in the jaw. "You GIT!" he yelled. "You SODDING ARSE! Six months, Sherlock. Six BLOODY months you let me think that you were dead! Do you know what you put me through!? And Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, and Molly, and everyone else who gives a damn about you!"

"John, I -Hmmph," Sherlock's voice was muffled as John lunged at Sherlock again, but this time, John wrapped his best friend in a tight hug. Sherlock stiffened at the touch, then eventually relaxed and reciprocated John's embrace.

"God, I've missed you," John said once he released Sherlock. As angry as he was at Sherlock for letting him suffer for six months, he was over the moon to have Sherlock alive and well right in front of him. He handed Sherlock the cold compress for his jaw, which was already starting to swell slightly, and then checked Sherlock for any other bumps, bruises, cuts, or scrapes. Once John was satisfied that Sherlock was in one piece and in a healthy condition (or at least, healthy for Sherlock) he sat back and asked, "Where have you been?"

Sherlock got up and sat next to John on the sofa. "I'm fine, John. Really," he insisted. "I've been staying at Mycroft's."

"MYCROFT'S!?" John spluttered. "You mean to tell me that he KNEW you were alive this whole time and didn't breathe a word? I'll kill him, I'll swear I'll kill him, I'll – "

"I asked him not to," Sherlock quickly interrupted, leaning away a bit in case John decided to swing at him again. "I needed you to TRULY believe that I was dead."

"But why? Moriarty -"

"Is dead, yes, but still had people targeting you. I had to make sure you were safe." Sherlock sighed. "You, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson all had targets on you. I had to stay 'dead' long enough for the threats to have been eliminated."

John looked at Sherlock questioningly. Sherlock either didn't notice or didn't care to elaborate and just kept talking. "I did keep an eye on you, John - I monitored you at the flat, followed you around town, to the cemetery. I stayed within earshot and where I could see you, but I had to make sure you couldn't see me." He paused, as if considering his next words carefully. "As much as it... pained me to see you suffering, it really was for your own safety." Ah-ha, so the self-proclaimed 'sociopath' actually DID care for people other than himself. John always knew that Sherlock wasn't quite as heartless as he claimed to be, but it was nice to hear it finally confirmed by the detective himself.

Sherlock placed his hand on John's shoulder. "At the cemetery, you said that you wanted to tell me how you truly felt about me. That you wanted to tell me exactly what I mean to you. What are you telling me, John?"

"The cemetery…" John always felt like he was actually talking to Sherlock when he visited his grave. _Turns out I actually WAS talking to Sherlock,_ he thought. _Our conversations were usually one-sided here at home, no wonder I felt comfortable talking to a headstone._ "About that, Sherlock…" He trailed off, staring at the sofa cushion while trying to collect his thoughts. "When I first came back from Afghanistan, I was miserable. I missed the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush that being there gave me. I was depressed. I even was on anti-depressants. But then I met you…" He chuckled. "That first case, and I was hooked. After meeting Mycroft for the first time and before coming back to half of the London police force searching for drugs in our flat, I stopped back at my old place, retrieved my gun, and threw out my anti-depressants. You were better than any medicine I ever could have taken.

And then that day, it was all over. I thought you had died without me ever telling you how much I care about you. You're my best friend in the whole world, and I was completely miserable without you. I don't want to ever lose you again, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked deep in thought. John almost continued when Sherlock suddenly blurted out, "Cocaine."

John was confused. "What?" He looked back up at Sherlock, thinking _here I am, seeing Sherlock for the first time in six months, pouring my heart out to him, and he's working on a CASE? _"What are you getting on about?"

Sherlock shrugged. "My drug of choice. The 'fake' drugs bust that Lestrade conducted… if he had looked hard enough he would have found it. Of course what's hidden in plain sight is always the hardest to locate. But that's beside the point. After we met, I found that I didn't need it anymore. Once we solved our first case together I went home and I destroyed it all. I found with you around I didn't need any artificial stimulants."

Ever since the night of the fake drugs bust, John had wondered about what Sherlock had meant by their conversation re: him trying to stand up for Sherlock and Sherlock shushing him. He had decided not to press Sherlock about it and figured that Sherlock would reveal the information either when it was relevant, convenient, or suited him.

He looked around the flat, trying to figure out where Sherlock would have hidden his drugs in plain sight. "Flour container," Sherlock said. "Lestrade never would have thought I'd hide it in there and the rest of the squad is too stupid to have noticed."

John looked back at Sherlock to find his blue-green eyes searching John's own, his expression pensive.

"When, John?" Sherlock asked softly, more to himself than to the man sitting in front of him.

"When what?" John wasn't sure if it was the shock of seeing Sherlock alive after all this time or if his Sherlockian was rusty, but he was having a hard time keeping up with Sherlock's thought processes today.

Sherlock removed his hand from John's shoulder and took John's hand in his own. "When did you fall in love with me?"

**A/N: AHHHH, the FEELS! **

**Unless I missed it, John and Sherlock never actually *talked* about that conversation during the fake drug bust at 221B. I know John was just dying to know what Sherlock was talking about.**

**R/R please! If you would like to read this same story from Sherlock's PoV, please let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Confessions

**A/N: Surprise update!**

**Sorry this chapter is so short, but I wanted to give Sherlock & his feels his own chapter.**

**Musical inspiration for this chapter is "All That You Are" by the Goo Goo Dolls. YouTube it and give it a listen while reading!**

**Unfortunately, Benedict Cumberbatch - I mean Sherlock - still doesn't belong to me. :)**

Chapter 3

"When did you fall in love with me?"

John felt himself grow warm. Had Sherlock really just said what John thought he'd said? "When did you fall in love with me, John?" Sherlock repeated patiently, as if speaking to a small child instead of the amiable, intelligent doctor in front of him.

"But I don't – I'm not – I mean…" John stammered then was silent for a few moments. _Oh what the hell_, he thought. _For six months I've regretted not telling him how I felt. I thought I'd NEVER get a chance to tell him. I don't want anything to ACTUALLY happen to Sherlock without him knowing how much I care. _He sighed. "Sarah and I actually broke up the night we were kidnapped by the Black Lotus. It was a mutual breakup and we agreed to remain friends since we were also colleagues. The night I was angry at you and stayed over at her place, we stayed up talking, mostly about you. She asked me how I put up with you, and I realized that it was because as annoying as you can be, I'm crazy about you. I've never felt the same way about anyone else the way I feel about you. You're the most important person in my life. When you jumped from the rooftop at St Bart's, I felt like a piece of me had died."

He took a deep breath and looked Sherlock straight in his eyes. "I love you, Sherlock. I love you so much and I just wanted you to know that."

Noting the expression of mild surprise on Sherlock's face he hurried to add, "But I know you consider yourself married to your work - "

"John - " Sherlock tried to interrupt.

"And I know you're not looking for a relationship - "

"John, I - "

"And you probably don't even FEEL that way - "

John was suddenly silenced by Sherlock's lips on his. _Damn, Sherlock is a great kisser,_ John thought, making a small whimpering noise when Sherlock grazed John's bottom lip with his teeth. Their lips moved together naturally, John gripping Sherlock's shirt in order to pull him closer while Sherlock reached up to caress John's face. John could smell the combination of Sherlock's aftershave and the scent that was pure Sherlock. God, how he had missed that smell. He inhaled deeply, trying to memorize the aroma. He then reached up to run his hands through Sherlock's hair, those brown curls that John found so tantalizing that he one day had rifled through Sherlock's toiletries trying to figure out which product got his hair that curly. (Turns out Sherlock was a 'wash & go' kind of fellow – no product needed.)

Sherlock broke the kiss (_too soon_, John thought) and backed away a few inches, his breath warm and minty on John's lips.

"Well then," John panted.

Sherlock shook his finger at him and straightened. "Ah-ah. My turn."

**A/N: How else was Sherlock going to shut John up? ;)**


	4. Chapter 4 - Feelings

**A/N: Amazing what a bottle of wine will do. Sherlock absolutely REFUSED to talk to me before! Stubborn boy…**

**Song inspiration for this chapter is still "All That You Are" by The Goo Goo Dolls.**

Chapter 4 - _Feelings_

"Ah-ah," Sherlock interrupted. "My turn."

John, still reeling from the feel of Sherlock's lips on his, sat back in a daze. Sherlock adjusted on the sofa so he was facing John, who suddenly became fascinated with the loose thread on his jumper.

"I needed a new flatmate because I had been staying with Mycroft while I was in recovery for my cocaine habit. Part of my agreement for not having to continue to stay with Mycroft was to get a flatmate; I supposed it was because Mycroft wanted someone to keep an eye on me for him, which is why he propositioned you to spy on me. I knew Mrs. Hudson had a flat available, but I wasn't going to let Mycroft pay for it. The day I met you, I knew that you would agree to the flat share. You were intrigued by me, and I must admit, I did find your story interesting and wanted to know more about you." Sherlock paused as if recalling the memory.

"When Lestrade contacted me about the fourth 'suicide' I invited you along as a sort of experiment, to see if you would forget about your psychosomatic limp. It was also a test of your intelligence and your patience. You know I can't stand stupidity. I also needed to make sure you could put up with me. I know I can be difficult to live with."

John chuckled. "You've got that right."

Sherlock shot him a dirty look and continued.

"Before I moved into 221B I never had anyone I considered a friend, but then I met you. I found you didn't annoy me as much as most people."

_Gee, thanks, _John thought, but didn't say anything and kept fiddling with his jumper.

"I actually had things in common with you," Sherlock continued. "I felt like I could talk to you and you wouldn't judge me. You put up with my idiosyncrasies, like never sleeping or eating and playing the violin at 3 o'clock in the morning. Once I allowed myself to feel, it spiraled out of control. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and Molly all eventually got upgraded from means to an end to people I genuinely _liked_. It took me a while to accept that fact... I had _friends._ None as close as you, though. You're my best friend, John." He paused, like he was choosing his next words carefully.

"That night at Angelo's when I told you that I considered myself married to my work and that I wasn't interested in a relationship, I meant it."

John wanted to curl up and die. Here it was, the 'let's just be friends' speech.

"But then..." Sherlock trailed off.

_But? _John finally stopped unraveling his jumper and glanced up at Sherlock.

"The night of the circus, I started to get a funny feeling in my chest right after you left to pick up Sarah. I analyzed it and realized that it was jealousy. An inconsequential feeling, one I quickly passed off as being because we were in the middle of a case and you were running off with some date. I later realized that it was because all these women could have the relationship with you that I had wanted."

"But Irene Adler – "John started to interrupt, completely missing the point of Sherlock's last statement.

"– Was an interesting case. She was the only other person to intrigue me even _remotely_ like you do. But that's all it was – intrigue. You know how much I appreciate cleverness.

That night at the pool, I was shocked and confused when you stepped out after I called Moriarty out, making me think _you_ were _him_. I felt pure, unadulterated _terror_ when I saw that you had a bomb strapped to your chest. Then when you were willing to blow _yourself_ and Moriarty up in order to save my life, seeing that dedication, I... My feelings towards you changed. I felt... I know you always felt that love was a mystery to me, but that night when you offered to die for me, I _felt_ an emotion that I thought I had deleted - love."

"What are you saying, Sherlock?" John asked with bated breath.

"I... I think I'm in love with you."

"_You think?_"

"Well, I'm displaying all of the appropriate signs... elevated heart rate, dilated pupils, quickness of breath... and the overwhelming urge to snog you senseless." Sherlock smiled, a **real** smile that was a genuinely rare occurrence. John had only seen that smile on a couple of occasions.

_God, how I've missed that smile, _John thought, tenderly reaching up to run his thumb over Sherlock's perfect lips. He couldn't believe that Sherlock, _his_ Sherlock, was alive and loved him the way he loved Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed. "I suppose I actually fell in love with you after our first case. After you shot the cabbie in order to keep me from taking the poisoned pill, I found myself actually _caring_ about you. I had never cared for someone like that before.

I'd be lost without my blogger."

John smiled. That was the second time Sherlock had said that to him. He had never realized that Sherlock had meant it as a pick-up line.

Sherlock breathed, "You have _no_ idea how much I love you, John."

John grinned. "I love the way you say my name..."

Sherlock's eyes lit up. "John," he said softly and John smiled. "John. Jawn. Jaaaawwwwnnnn. Jaw-"

This time John silenced Sherlock with a kiss.

Once they came up for air, Sherlock suddenly noted, "You switched your body wash."

"Err, yeah," John admitted. "I switched to your brand, trying to remember the way you smelled. The flat started to lose your scent so I tried to get it as close as possible so I could remember you."

"By the way, where are my belongings?" Sherlock asked. "The flat looks positively _bare_ without them."

"I had them put in storage," John answered. "I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them, yet it was too painful a reminder to have them lying about the flat. Your room hasn't been touched, though. Everything is as you left it that day. I couldn't bring myself to go in your room."

Sherlock rushed on. "I faked my death because I had to make _sure_ that you were safe from Moriarty's henchmen, John. I never wanted to hurt you. I had to disappear for an appropriate amount of time to make absolute sure that you weren't in any danger. I hated to see you suffering thinking I was dead." John noticed Sherlock bit his lip, uncertain.

"I – I can move back in at once, if you'll have me," Sherlock said, rather shyly.

"Of course," John said incredulously. "Who else would want me as a flatmate?"

**A/N: One more chapter – an Epilogue. Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed/favorited!**

***Any mistakes that remain (besides the American vs British colloquialisms) I blame on the wine ;)**


	5. Chapter 5 - Epilogue

Epilogue

After their heart-to-heart, they both went downstairs to tell Mrs. Hudson the good news. Her reaction upon seeing Sherlock was to drop the teacup she was holding, gasp in surprise, and then launch herself at Sherlock, blubbering tearfully, "You gave me such a FRIGHT young man!"

After making sure that Mrs. Hudson wasn't going to have a coronary, they went back to their flat and John suggested going to the NSY to see Lestrade. "No need," Sherlock replied. He pulled out his mobile and quickly sent Lestrade a text. A few minutes later Sherlock's mobile beeped with a new message. He turned his phone so he & John could both read the message together. _Good,_ the message read. _Now I can stop lying to John about you really being alive - GH. _

The ensuing row over "_HOW many people knew you were still alive, Sherlock!?_" lasted an hour and a half.

Mycroft, Molly, and Lestrade apparently all had a hand in Sherlock faking his death. Molly helped provide a fake body for the funeral, Mycroft helped Sherlock stay off of the radar and destroyed all of the fake death documentation upon Sherlock's return, and Lestrade and the people over at the NSY quickly ruled Sherlock's death a 'suicide' so that the investigation would quickly be closed and the appropriate paperwork drawn up. John was NOT amused. It took a lot of explaining ("But it was for your OWN GOOD John! I needed you to have genuine emotion and it was to protect you from Moriarty's henchmen!"), apologizing, and coddling and John only relented after Sherlock started raining kisses down his jaw and neck, murmuring John's name in that sultry way of his.

Now, three weeks later, it was almost like Sherlock had never been gone. Neither one had again mentioned the past 6 months. The only differences between before The Fall and now were that John and Sherlock were a LOT closer. It gave John a thrill to give Sherlock little random touches throughout the day and place soft kisses behind Sherlock's ear or on his temple while Sherlock was staring through a microscope at a slide. "You're _DISTRACTING_ me, John," Sherlock would scold half-heartedly while spinning around to wrap his arms around his boyfriend and turn that innocent display of affection into a full-on makeout session.

John and Sherlock were snuggling together on the couch watching telly after a particularly difficult case. (Well, John was absentmindedly stroking Sherlock's hair and watching telly while Sherlock pretended to watch telly but was really memorizing the feel of every stroke of John's fingers in his hair.) John stopped after a while and cleared his throat. "Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock mumbled, snuggling closer.

"How exactly did you survive that fall?"

John felt Sherlock tense up. "That, my dear Watson" he said, kissing John softly, "is a story for another day."

FIN

A/N: Well, that's it! Sorry this chapter was late, I had a crazy weekend.

I hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Sherlock's PoV is coming soon – I hope to have it up all at once!


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